


I'll Stay

by onepageatatime715



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, MAAS Sarah J. - Works
Genre: A Court of Thorns and Roses - Freeform, F/M, Falling In Love, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand - Freeform, Fluff, Love, Mates, Night Court - Freeform, Nightmares, Rhysand - Freeform, a court of mist and fury, feyre - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 20:24:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9512123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onepageatatime715/pseuds/onepageatatime715
Summary: The night of Rhysand’s nightmare, except Feyre couldn’t bring herself to leave her dark, fallen prince as he knelt on his bed.All characters belong to Sarah J Maas.





	

“Feyre,” he said, his voice hoarse. As if he’d been screaming.

“Yes,” I said. He studied my face – the taloned hand at my throat. And released me immediately.

I lay there, staring up at where he now knelt on the bed, rubbing his hands over his face. My traitorous eyes indeed dared look lower than his chest – but my attention snagged at the twin tattoos on each of his knees: a towering mountain crowned by three stars. Beautiful – but brutal, somehow.

You were having a nightmare,” I said, easing up into a sitting position. Like some dam had been cracked open inside me, I glanced at my hand – and willed it to vanish into shadow. It did.

Half a thought scattered the darkness again.

His hands, however, still ended in long, black talons – and his feet … they ended in claws, too. The wings were out, slumped down behind him. And I wondered how close he’d been to fully shifting into that beast he’s once told me he hated.

He lowered his hands, talons fading into fingers. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s why you’re staying here, not at the House. You don’t want the others seeing this.”

“I normally keep it contained to my room. I’m sorry I woke you.”

I fisted my hands on my lap to keep from touching him. “How often does it happen?”

Rhys’s violet eyes met mine, and I knew the answer before he said, “As often as you.”

I swallowed hard. “What did you dream of tonight?”

He shook his head, looking toward the window – to where snow had dusted nearby rooftops. “There are memories from Under the Mountain, Feyre, that are best left unshared. Even with you.”

He’d shared enough horrific things with me that they has to be … beyond nightmares, then. But I put my hand on his elbow, naked body and all. “When you want to talk, let me know. I won’t tell the others.”

I made to slither off the bed, but he grabbed my hand, keeping it against his arm. “Thank-you.”

I studied the hand, the ravaged face. Such pain lingered there – and exhaustion. The face he never let anyone see.

I pushed up onto my knees and kissed his check, his skin warm and soft beneath my mouth.

Rhys let out a small groan, just loud enough for me to know that he hadn’t intended the sound to escape. We were close – so close – and he was utterly naked.

And his hand was still over my hand, his grip tighter now as I pulled away, meeting his violet gaze uncertainly.

“Stay, Feyre,” he murmured.

A small, traitorous part of me wanted to – but Tamlin…

“I’ll put pants on,” Rhys whispered. A plea. And the sadness in his voice, it nearly broke my heart.

How often had I wished that Tamlin would comfort me, acknowledge me nightmares? Could I really leave Rhys here to suffer as I had in the Spring Court?

With a small, sad smile, I leaned back down to lay on the pillows.

“I’ll stay,” I murmured.

Rhys slipped out of the bed, and I closed my eyes firmly, lest my traitorous mind be tempted to peek below his waist – at more than those twin tattoos on his knees. I could hear his rummaging through his wardrobe, then I heard him pad across the room to close the door – I had left it ajar in my haste to awaken him.

The groan of the mattress as Rhys slipped back into bed forced my eyes open again, and I rolled over to meet his violet gaze.

“Thank-you,” he whispered.

His face was still lined with the phantom of pain, and I reached out to touch it, barely aware I was doing so until my palm was pressed against his cheek.

Rhys didn’t move – he was barely breathing.

I let my hand trace lower, following the lines of his lips, his jaw, his neck, tracing the tattoos that lined his chest carefully, my own gaze never leaving his eyes. He shuddered as I traced the tattoos near his waistband, pulling me closer almost involuntarily. I let him. Then I slowly brought my hand back up to rest on his cheek, and Rhys nuzzled into it, let loose a great, shuddering sob.

I froze.

Sobs wracked his body, and he brought his own hands up to cover my own as he clutched his face.

Making my decision, I moved closer still, pressing myself against the hard lines of his body, drawing him against me as I did so, trying to take some of his pain onto myself. It was unbearable to watch, this fallen, broken prince sobbing without restraint in my arms as I smoothed his hair.

He clung to me. “Feyre.”

It broke my heart, to see my own heartbreak reflected in him.

“Rhys,” I whispered, drawing his face up so his gaze once again met my own. “Let me in. Let me help.”

But I could see it in his eyes – whatever was breaking him, whatever horrors lingered in his mind, he wasn’t ready to share them, not yet.

It was more of an instinct, a whisper in the back of my mind, to protect, to heal. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his, gentle and sweet and caring.

Rhys kissed me back, the salt of his tears intertwining with the taste of him.

My hands found the hard muscles on his back, and he moaned softly as I traced the grooves of his muscles, deepening the kiss.

Then he pulled back.

But I could see it now, in his eyes. He wasn’t so close to breaking. I had held him together, saved him from tumbling into that void completely, just as he had once done for my Under the Mountain when he licked away my tears.

I leaned forward again and licked away his tears, and I saw that he understood.

And that voice whispered in the back of my mind again, but I pushed it away.

He pulled me more tightly into his embrace, running his hands through my hair. His wings formed a cocoon around us.

We stayed life that for some time, my head tucked into the crook of his neck, his hand running through my hair, our bodies pressed together.

“My licking was better,” he grumbled, sleep slurring his words.

I snorted softly. “I beg to differ.”

Instead of replying, Rhys pressed his lips against my hair, and he didn’t pull away. I didn’t either – as sleep crept up on me again, I found that I didn’t mind being engulfed in his warm embrace, cocooned in the safety of his wings. I didn't didn't he feel of his lips against me.

My hands drew small, calming patterns on his skin as we slung to one another.

And at last, the Lord of Night drifted to sleep, and I soon followed him. Neither one of us woke until dawn, our nightmares chased away by each other’s embrace.


End file.
